Poems (Edwards)/The Exile's Death-Song
THE EXILE'S DEATH-SONG.
An exile came from his native land, And the tear on his cheek was stealing,As memory sat on her silent throne, All olden things revealing;His cheek was bright with the fever glow, And his eyes were wildly gleaming,And his life-blood fast as a rushing tide, Through his bounding heart was streaming.
He thought of the home of his early years, He thought of the dark blue river,Where oft he had wandered with glad light step% And seen the bright waves quiver;Over the ocean foam his heart went back To the beautiful solemn wild-wood,Where oft he had strayed by his sister's side, In the cloudless days of childhood.
He thought of his own loved hearth and home, He thought of his watchful mother,He thought of his friends o'er the briny foam, And his grief was too deep to smother;In a mournful strain from his pale white lips, His Death-Song soft came pealing,Like a low deep wail from the spirit's heart, Its pent-up thoughts revealing.
"My heart is with thee, my native land! My heart is with thee still, On the flowery mead, on the mountain top, On the bright and sunny hill.
My spirit is with thee, my father land! My beautiful ocean isle, I have left on thy bosom, my father's form, And my mother's kindly smile.
They are with thee still, they are with thee still, Bright happy land of my birth, I have left on thy shores, my native isle! The joys of my home and hearth.
They are there, they are there, they are mine no more, I am passing away to a brighter shore, The Exile is free; I go to dwell In a brighter world—"Farewell! Farewell!"
The Exile gazed on the far-off shore Where the billowy waves were bounding,And the rushing wing of the mighty wind Along on the beach was sounding;A change came over his manly brow, Life's silver cord was riven,And his spirit fled from this house of clay, To its glorious home in Heaven.